Sihir of Slytherin: A Tale Of Hogwarts
by ButcherPete1
Summary: Sihir is starting School. He's well-to-do, and seems the friendly sort to many, but is sorted into Slytherin House, to the surprise of all. How will his years at Hogwarts turn out? Who will remain his friend, and who will become an enemy?
1. Arrival

"Why not try this one?" Said Ollivander the wand-maker, placing a fourth box before Sihir. He was shopping all day for school supplies, and was purchasing a wand last. His family moved from America to England when he was six, and he was starting school at Hogwarts soon. Ollivander was a very obtuse fellow, and he measured several of Sihir's body parts, including eyelashes, index finger, and toenails.

Sihir picked up the wand, and gave it a flick. Weak sparks flew. Ollivander snatched it back. "No, no, no..." He muttered, going back. He brought a fifth wand. "Here, this one."

When Sihir picked it up, he felt a warm sensation inside him, rising. He gave it a flick, and many sparks sparked. Ollivander smiled. "There we are. That one will do. Let's see... 7 inches, Yew, Dragon Heartstring, nice a supple, and... curved. That will be seven Galleons, please..."

...

"Are you excited, my boy?" Mehmed asked his son. Sihir nodded. "Don't worry, you'll make lots of new friends!" He looked a little sad, too. "If only your mother were here to see you..." Mehmed blinked back tears. His wife, Ferah, died two years ago, from a sickness. "Alright, son. Get on the train. Write me a letter when you get to Hogwarts, and send it with Timur." Timur was the owl Sihir bought in Diagon Alley. A large grey Barn owl.

"I will, father." Sihir was nervous. He stepped on to the train, and waved to his father, who waved back, grinning to his ears. After the train began moving, Sihir searched around for a compartment. He found a red-haired boy searching too.

"Can't find one either, huh?" Sihir shook his head. "Let's find one together. My name is Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley." He extended his hand toward Sihir.

Sihir shook it. "I'm Sihir. Sihir Ibn Mehmed." They began looking for an open compartment.

"Where are you from, Sihir?"

"America, but my family moved here when I was six. If you mean my ancestry, I'm Egyptian-Arab."

"Cool! Oh, here's a place." It was occupied by a dark-haired boy with glasses. "Excuse me..?" The boy turned around from the window. "Do you mind? There's no where else."

"Not at all!" He gestured to the bench across from him. Sihir and Ron entered and sat down.

"I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley."

"I'm Sihir."

Harry smiled. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Ron and Sihir gasped. "Harry Potter?" They both asked simultaneously. "So it's true?" Asked Ron, open-mouthed. "I mean, do you really have the... the..!"

Harry was confused. "The what..?"

Ron leaned in close. "The scar?" He said in a whisper. Harry grinned, and pushed his bangs aside, and there is was, a lightening bolt on his forehead. "Wicked..!"

A cart rolled by, being pushed by an old woman. She poked her head into the compartment. "Anything off the Trolley, dears?"

"No thanks," Said Ron, holding up a smushed sandwich.

Harry looked at the sandwich, then at the lady, and produced a few galleons. "We'll take the lot." Ron was stunned at the wealth.

They had snacked on lots of junk foods through the trip. "This your first time eating wizard sweets?" Asked Sihir. Harry nodded. "You'll enjoy these. Chocolate Frogs!" He tossed one at Harry, who caught it, grinning.

"They aren't real... right?"

Sihir laughed. "No, no. Just a spell." Sihir opened his, but the frog leapt from the box, and out the window. "Shoot!" He looked at the card. "Ooh! Andros the Invincible!" He looked at Harry and Ron. "Any of you want it? I'm not a collector."

Ron was eager, so he gave it to him. "Thanks!"

Harry opened his, but his frog escaped, too. Sihir was laughing. "Hey, I have Dumbledore!"

"Yeah, I have six of him."

A while later, Ron was about to treat Harry and Sihir to a spell that would turn his rat yellow, when a girl walked in.

She sighed. "Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost one."

"We saw a few chocolate frogs, but no toads, sorry." Answered Sihir.

She laughed, and noticed Ron's wand. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see, then."

Ron smirked, and cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat YELLOW!" A flash was all that came, and the rat retained its brown, thin fur. Harry and Ron shrugged.

"Are you _sure_ that's a _real_ spell..?" She asked. "Well, it's not very _good_, is it?" Harry and Ron exchanged a look, and she went on. "I've only tried a few simple spells myself, but they all worked for me." She sat next to Sihir, and across from Harry, pulled out her wand, and pointed it between Harry's eyes. "Oculus Reparo." Harry's glasses lost their small crack, and he and Ron were astonished. As he took the glasses off, she recognized him. "Holy cricket! You're Harry Potter! I'm Hermione Granger."

"I'm Sihir, pleasure to meet you Hermione."

She smiled at Sihir, and looked at Ron. "And... you are..?"

"I'm Ron Weasley." He said with a mouthful of sweets.

"Pleasure." Said Hermione in a voice that suggested otherwise. "You three should change into your robes, I expect we'll arrive soon." She stood and went to leave, but before, she turned back to Ron. "You've got dirt on your nose, did you know? Just... there..." She pointed to her own nose where his dirt was, and quickly left.

The Train pulled into the station an hour later, and the train emptied of the students.

"Alright, now. First-years, follow me! Come out, now, don't be shy." A large man was leading the First-Years away from the train. Sihir followed suit. The Large Man, whom he learned was called "Rubeus Hagrid," led them all to some boats. "Everyone choose a boat, four in each!"

Sihir got on a boat, and three girls followed him in, including two twins. "Hello, I'm Sihir. What's your names?"

They smiled at him. "I'm Padma Patil. This is my sister Parvati, and this is Pansy Parkinson." The others said hello to him.

"Are you Indian, too?" Asked Pansy. The twins giggled.

"Oh, no, I'm Arab."

"Oh."

"So, which House do you think you'll be sorted into?" Asked Sihir as the boats began moving.

Pansy answered first. "I'm hoping for Slytherin. My family's been in it for generations."

"We are hoping for Gryffindor." Said Parvati, glancing at Pansy with disgust.

"I'm to be the first one in my family to go to Hogwarts. My mother and father met at the American school, Salem school for Witches and Wizards."

"What's your lineage like? Half-blood? Pure? Muggle..?" Pansy said the last one with a hint of disgust.

"Not that it matters, but I'm considered pure-blooded. Why should it matter? Aren't all magic users relevant?" Pansy ignored Sihir for the rest of the trip. "How about you two, now that the subject has come up?" He asked the Indian twins.

"We're pure-blooded." Answered Padma, smiling at him. Sihir felt a little awkward, then, and didn't know why...

They reached the castle, and the First-years all walked together up a flight of stairs, where they met a woman. Sihir stood behind Harry.

"Welcome to Hogwarts! I am Professor McGonagall. Now, in a few moments, you will go through these doors to join your classmates, but before, you will be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw... and Slytherin..." Sihir saw a silver-haired boy nod in approval at the last house. "While you are here, your House will be like a family. Triumphs will earn your house points, and rule-breaking will lose you points." She seemed the stern type. "At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup-."

"TREVOR!" A fat boy snatched a toad off the ground. This must be Neville. Professor McGonagall was surprised, understandably. "Sorry..." The boy muttered. There were grins and sniggers amongst the First-years.

"The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly." With that, she left. There was silence, until the silver-haired boy spoke.

"So it's true, what they were saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." Everyone began whispering. _Harry Potter, here?_ The boy introduced his friends. "This is Crabbe, and Goyle." He walked over to Harry. "And I'm Malfoy. Draco, Malfoy." Ron snorted. Malfoy turned on him. "Think the name's funny, do you? Do I even have to ask yours..?" He seemed to sneer very easily. "Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe..? You must be a Weasley." Ron turned his head down, ashamed. "You'll soon find some wizard families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the _wrong_ sort. I can help you there." He held out his hand.

Harry looked at the hand, and refused to shake it, saying that he can figure out the wrong sort for himself. Draco was fuming, but the Professor was back. "We're ready for you now. Follow me."

They followed her into the great hall, where all the other students were, already seated. They followed her to the high bench at the end of the hall.

An old, lumpy hat sat on a stool in front of the faculty. An old wizard with a great white beard stood. Albus Dumbledore! "Before we begin, I have a few short-term notices. Please note, First Years, that the Dark Forest is forbidden to _all _students. Also, our caretaker, Mister Filch, has asked me to remind you that the Third Floor corridor, on the right hand side, is out-of-bounds to all those who do not wish to die a slow and painful death." Sihir was unsure whether this was a morbid joke or not. "Thank you." With that, he sat back down.

McGonagall unrolled a scroll, and began to read off names. Hermione went first, and was sorted into Gryffindor. Malfoy was next. The hat barely touched him, and it proclaimed Slytherin.

She looked at the scroll again. "Sihir Ibn Mehmed!" A wave of nausea washed over Sihir. He walked forward, and sat on the stool. Everyone's eyes were on him. She set the hat on him.

"Well well well, isn't this a tricky one..?" Said a voice inside his mind. "You seem courageous... Pure-blood, eh? Interesting. You will be a welcome addition to any House. Loyal? Strange... Smart... there's a good Ravenclaw attitude... Clever, and capable of manipulation... hmm... Great things are in store for you... I think I've found your House. SLYTHERIN!" The table on the far side erupted in cheers. Harry and Ron seemed surprised. Pansy, too. He hopped off the stool, and walked over to the Slytherin table.

He sat next to Draco. "Yeah, Slytherin!" Said Draco.

Sihir grinned. "Yeah. Is your family Slytherin-based?"

"Yeah, back for many generations. Is yours?"

"No, I'm the first one to go to Hogwarts. My family moved here from America."

"Oh, American? Cool! Your family went to Salem, right?"

"Yes."

"We'll be good friends, Sihir, that I am sure of..."

Later, after the feast (how grand it was!), the first-years were all guided to the Common rooms. The Slytherins were in the dungeons. They came upon some bare wall, and the prefect said "Serpent." The wall slid open, and they all poured through. "This is the Common room, where you will spend time with you House mates." They were free to move about the room. It was a long, low room, with a greenish tint to its lighting. There was a fire crackling under an ornate mantlepiece, with high-backed chairs in front of it, occupied by several other Slytherins.

Draco and his friends Crabbe and Goyle approached him. Pansy followed them. "So, our home-away-from-home, eh?" Said Draco.

Sihir nodded, smiling. "I like this place, it seems cozy."

"Pansy tells me you like Muggle-Borns. Any truth to that?"

"I neither like nor dislike them, as a people."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"There's going to be some Muggles I like, some that I don't. Simple as that."

Draco snorted. "Good one, good one." The four of them laughed, thinking Sihir was joking.

Sihir laughed along. "Well, first day tomorrow, I'd better get some rest. I'll see you all in the morning, eh?" They all said their good-nights, and all went to their dormitories. Draco shared a room with Sihir and several other First-years. "Good night, guys. Here's to a great first year!"


	2. The First Week

Sihir was sitting in Transfiguration class when Harry and Ron ran in, breathing heavily. They were almost ten minutes late! Blaise Zabini and Sihir looked up at the two, and shared a grin.

"Whew... We made it..." Said Ron, out of breath. "Could you imagine the look on McGonagall's face if she knew we were late?" Sihir grinned. _Here it comes..._ The Cat on the desk leapt, and changed into the form of Professor McGonagall, looking down sternly on the two. Ron was stunned. "That was bloody brilliant!"

McGonagall got a small smile on her face at that. "Thank you very much for that assessment, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps it would be easier to transfigure either you or Mr. Potter into a pocket watch? That way, one of you would be _on time!"_ McGonagall had a good sense of humor, Sihir liked that in a person.

"Well... We got lost..." Harry admitted.

"Then perhaps a map? I trust you don't need one to find your seats!" That drew Sihir to outright laughter. Harry gave him a sheepish grin.

The next class was Potions, and Sihir led them there himself. The Professor wasn't there, though. They sat down and settled in.

The door banged open seconds later. "There will be no foolish wand-waving, or silly incantations in this class..." All in one breath. This man took his job seriously. He had a large nose, and long greasy black hair, and a solemn face. "As such, I do not expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making, however; for those select few..." He paused and was looking right at Draco Malfoy. "...who posses the predisposition... I can teach you to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to brew glory, bottle fame, and even put a stopper... in _death._" Blaise looked at Sihir, eyes widened.

Snape got a distasteful look on his face. "Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts with such grand abilities _so formidable_ that they feel confident enough _not to pay attention!_" Sihir looked to where Professor Snape was looking. Harry was writing on some paper. It looked like notes. Hermione elbowed him quickly, and Harry stopped, giving the Professor his undivided attention.

"Mr. Potter..." He grinned slightly. "Our new... celebrity... Tell me where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione's hand shot up. "I- I don't know, Sir..." Harry admitted.

"And what is the difference between Monkshood, and Wolfsbane?"

Hermione looked ready to burst. "I don't know, Sir..." Harry repeated, eyes downcast.

"Pity... Clearly fame isn't everything... Is it, Mr. Potter..?" Draco Malfoy sniggered.

"_Clearly_ Hermione knows." Harry retorted. "It seems a pity not to ask her..!"

The entire class laughed, and Snape called for silence. He stared at Harry with a look of pure loathing, and walked over to him. He pulled an unoccupied stool from behind him, and sat across from Harry.

"For your information, Potter, a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, that can save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of Peckinate." He paused. "Well... _Why aren't you all copying this down!?" _

Sihir and the rest of the class quickly dipped their quills, and began hastily scribbling notes. "Gryffindors," began Snape as he returned to the head of the class. "Note that five points will be taken from you, for your classmate's cheek." All the Slytherins but Sihir laughed.

The next day, during breakfast in the Great Hall, Sihir walked up to Harry and Ron. "Hey, Harry, Ron, how's your week going?"

Ron looked at him strangely. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Slytherin?"

"What, because I'm Slytherin I can't consort with Gryffindors?"

"No, not that, it's just that it's unusual."

"I'm an unusual person." Sihir sat down next to Harry. "So, how's the first week?"

"Well, you saw. Late to one class, trouble in the next. What do you think?"

"Yeah."

Another boy, a few people down, was waving his wand at a cup. "Eye of rabbit, hang and hum. Turn this water into rum!" He peered into the cup, gave a look of disappointment, and tried again.

"What's Seamus trying to do to that glass of water?"

"Turn it to rum. He did manage to make tea yesterday... before-" There was a loud band, and a flash of light.

Seamus was covered in soot and ash. Everyone began laughing.

There was a screech from above. Ron looked up. "Mail's here!"

Owls began flying into the hall, bringing mail to their owners. There was Timur!

Timur landed in front of Sihir, a letter clutched in his beak. "Thank you, Timur!" He turned to Ron and Harry. "This is Ron, and that's Harry."

"Hello Timur." Said Harry. Ron grinned at the owl. Sihir opened the letter. It was from his father.

_Dear son._

_ Hello! I'm glad to hear you are having a good year thus far. I hope you enjoy the records I gave you for this year._

_ One of our Witch neighbors has a son in Slytherin, as well. Ms Zabini's son Blaise._

_ You are friends with Harry Potter? Zoroaster's flame, what an honor! Tell him hello, from me._

_ With love,_

_ Your Papa, Mehmed._

Sihir grinned. "My father says hello, Harry."

Harry nodded, reading _The Daily Prophet._ "Hey, someone broke into Gringotts! Listen:

"_Believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown, Gringotts' goblins, while acknowledging the breach, insist nothing was taken. The Vault in question, numbered 713, had in fact been emptied that very same day._

"That's odd. That's the Vault Hagrid and I went to..." Hermione seemed interested. Ron shrugged.

A few days later, they were given their first broomstick lesson. They met in a courtyard near the Quidditch fields. They all stood next to broomsticks. An aging witch with cat-like yellow eyes taught them.

"Good afternoon class."

"Good afternoon, Madame Hooch."

"Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well? What are you waiting for?" She clapped her hands together. "Everyone to the left side of their broomstick. Come on now, hurry up. Place your right hand over the broom, and say 'up!'"

The courtyard echoed with first-years saying "up!" Harry's came to him when he said it once. Sihir's on his second. Ron's hit him in the face.

Soon, all had their sticks in hand. "Now, once you've got your brooms, I want you to mount it. Grip it tight! You don't want to slide off the end. When I blow this whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground, and hard. Keep your brooms steady, hover for a moment or two, then lean forward slightly to touch back down. On my whistle: Three, two..." She blew it.

Neville was the first up. He panicked, and the stick drew him higher, and higher. "Mr. Longbottom, get back down here this instant!" Her command was to no avail. He just hovered higher, and he began flying around. He had no control over it, obviously. It smashed him against the castle walls, and finally his robe was caught on a statue's spear. He was stuck for a moment, then the robe tore, and he fell. It caught again on a torch stump, then he fell from it, landing heavily on the ground.

Madame Hooch was on the scene. "Everyone out of the way! Now!" She barked. She attempted to move Neville's arm, and he whimpered. "Oh dear, that's a broken wrist. Come now, up you get!" She looked around. "Everyone is to keep their feet firmly planted on the ground while I take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. Understand? If I see a _single_ broom in the air, the one riding it will be out of Hogwarts faster than they can say 'Quidditch!'" With that, she led the injured Neville away.

"Did you see his face?" Asked Malfoy. Sihir turned toward him. He had a glass ball in his hand. It looked like one Neville had earlier. "Maybe if the fat lard had given this a squeeze, he would have remembered to fall on his fat arse!" A few people giggled and sniggered.

Harry wasn't amused. "Give it here, Malfoy!"

Draco turned about. "Why should I?"

Sihir stepped forward. "Come on, Draco. There's no sport in it."

Draco looked at Sihir with amusement. "No. I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find." He looked up, mounted his broomstick, and hovered away. "How about on the roof?" He flew higher. "What's that matter, Potter?" He sneered. "A bit beyond your reach?"

Harry mounted his broom. Hermione objected, but her protests fell on deaf ears. Harry flew up to Draco. He was good for his first time! The two spoke, but it was to far away for Sihir to hear it.

Harry made a lunge for the ball, but missed. Draco threw it. Harry zoomed toward the ball, swirled, and caught it seconds before crashing through a window. He then glided back down to the courtyard. Everyone but Malfoy's lackeys ran toward Harry, shouting and smiling.

"Harry Potter!" It was the voice of Professor McGonagall. Harry turned, and the crowd became quiet. "Follow me." She turned, and Harry followed her.

Draco, Vincent, and Gregory laughed. "We won't be seeing him again any time soon!"


	3. Halloween

I had to update and replace some information given, sorry for the confusion, if any. Please Review!

* * *

"Seeker? But First-years never make House teams!" Ron was saying to Harry.

"Yeah, how'd you swing that?" Asked Sihir.

"You must be the youngest player in a century!"

"According to McGonagall."

Two red-haired twins came up behind them. "Well done, Harry! Wood's just told us!"

"Fred and George are on the team too. Beaters." Ron explained. They must be his brothers.

"Our job is to make sure _you_ don't get bloodied up too badly! Can't make any promises though. Rough game." Said Fred. Or was it George?

"Brutal! But no-one's died in years! Some will vanish occasionally, but they reappear in a month or two!" Said the other, and they left.

"Oh, go on, Harry! Quidditch is the best game there is! You'll be great!"

"But I've never played! What if I make a fool of myself?"

"But you won't make a fool of yourself!" Interjected Hermione, who appeared from seemingly nowhere. "It's in your blood." Harry and Ron shared a confused look.

Hermione led them to a glass container full of trophies. She pointed one out: _James Potter: Seeker._

"Wow, Harry!" Said Ron. "You never told me your father was a Seeker!"

"I didn't know!"

"You'll do fine Harry." Said Sihir. "I might not root for you, but you'll do fine." Harry grinned at him. "And Hermione, is this what you do in your spare time..?" The four laughed.

Later, they were in Flitwick's class, learning to make things float. Sihir sat next to Blaise again.

"One of the Wizard's most rudimentary skills, is levitation, or the ability to make objects fly!" He was incredibly short, almost like the goblins or elves, but with more human features. "Does everyone have their feathers?" Sihir saw Hermione lift hers. "Good. Now, don't forget the nice wrist movement we've been practicing. Swish, and flick! Everyone?" The class began practicing. "Swish and flick! Swish and flick!" "Good, and remember to enunciate! _WinGARdium LeviOHsah!"_

The whole class began practicing. Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy were having a difficult time, and so was Blaise. Sihir was managing to ruffle it a little, when he heard the Professor laugh excitedly. "Well done! See here everyone! Ms. Granger's done it!"

"Nice work Hermione!" Said Sihir. Blaise gave him a dirty look. Hermione smiled proudly. A loud band was heard. It seemed to be the same boy with the rum.

When class was finished, Sihir followed Harry, Ron, the one who made his feather explode, and a black youth. Ron was complaining. "'It's Levi-OH-sah, not Levio-SAH!' She's a nightmare, honestly! No wonder she hasn't got any friends!"

Hermione pushed past Ron, tears streaming down her face. "I think she heard you." Said Harry.

"Nice work, Ronald." Sihir went after her. "Hermione! Hermione!"

He caught up to her. "What, are you going to make fun of me, too?"

Sihir was taken aback. "No, I just wanted to apologize for the company I keep. You don't deserve that." Hermione was still crying.

Sihir pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve, and gave it to her. She wiped the tears away. "Thanks Sihir."

She handed it back to him. "No, keep it. You might need it again."

She smiled at him. "You're a good friend, Sihir. Why weren't you sorted into Gryffindor?"

"I have no idea. Here, let me walk you to your next class, alright?"

A week later was the Halloween feast. Hermione was a wreck, crying all the time. Sihir was sitting next to Draco and his cronies on the left, and Blaise and Pansy on the right. They were all excited for the game against Gryffindor tomorrow.

"Hey, Sihir. I've been thinking about your name..." Said Blaise, after finishing a slice of pumpkin pie. "You don't hear many Americans with that kind of name."

"Yeah, I know. My family, came from Arabia, but moved to America a few generations ago, I think after the World War in 1923. We keep our culture alive with our names. It's also traditional for muslims-"

"Interesting." Interjected Pansy, in a voice that made it seem not so interesting.

"Where does your family come from, Blaise? Zabini sounds a bit Italian."

"You guessed correctly, actually. We were Italian wizards right before the Fourth Crusade. We left Venice, and then settled in France, and moved to England five generations ago. Five generations of Slytherin, I might add."

Sihir grinned. "Nice! Say, who do you think will win tomorrow? Us or Gryffindor?"

The door to the great hall banged open.

"TROLL! TROLL!" Professor Quirrel was running at breakneck speed down the line of tables, screaming his head off. "TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!" He stopped in front of the high table. "Thought you ought to know." With that the Professor fainted.

All along the benches of every table, students were shrieking. Sihir was no exception. This wanton fear carried on for a few seconds, until Dumbledore stood up.

"SILENCE!" His voice boomed. The entire hall quieted. "Prefects, lead your students in your Houses to your common rooms! Teachers and heads of houses with me." The hall emptied, and Sihir followed the throng of students. Their Prefect led them back to the Common room, where they waited for their Head to come.

While they waited, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle sat with Sihir. "What kinds of music do you guys like? The Wierd Sisters are alright."

"Alright? They're the best!" Said Draco. Crabbe and Goyle bobbed their heads up and down like sheep. "What do they listen to in America?"

"I don't really remember, but my father says it's a mix of Muggle and Magic records."

Draco looked disgusted. "Muggle music? Bah!"

"Why do you only eat vegetables, Sihir?" Asked Blaise.

"My father told me to keep Halal, and I couldn't be too sure about the meat, so I eat vegetables."

"Ah, I see."

The door to the Slytherin Dungeon opened, and in came Professor Snape. The room quieted. "The troll has been dealt with." He said. "You have nothing to fear." He said the last bit rather sarcastically. He left them, heading back out the door.

"Professor? Can I speak with you?" Asked Sihir, walking after Snape.

Snape turned around, and regarded the first-year coldly. "What is it?"

Sihir gulped. "I-I was just wondering, sir, where I can find the kitchens? I need to inquire about the food."

"What, the food not good enough for you?" Sneered the Slytherin Head.

"No, not that, it's just I have some dietary restrictions..."

"Religious purposes?"

"Yes, I am a Muslim, sir."

"The kitchens are by the Hufflepuff basement. Find the painting of the bowl of fruit, and tickle the pear. The painting will open, and you can talk with the cooks." He looked down at the boy curiously, and walked away.

"Well, I'm going to bed. See you in the morning, guys." He went to the dormitory, and collapsed onto his bed.

The next morning, Sihir gathered his books into his bag, and followed some students to the main hall. He walked down the stairs to the basement, where he saw some Hufflepuffs, Third or Fourth years by the look of them.

"Can you help me? I'm trying to find the kitchens."

They pointed down the hall. "To the right, then make a left."

Sihir thanked them, and walked down the hall. He took a right, then a left, and saw a wall of paintings. One was a cooked turkey, one was a rice dish, a bowl of fruit- There it was! Sihir walked toward the painting. He tickled the pear. It giggled, and the painting opened to a large kitchen, with long tables akin to those in the great hall. There were many house-elves in the kitchen, cooking, and lifting food to the dishes on the tables. A few of them stopped, and smiled happily at Sihir, and ran over to him.

"A student! A student!" They seemed excited, and had squeaky voices. They had large ears, and pink skin. Like goblins, but fairer. "Anything we can help the young master with?"

"Um... Yes, and please, call me Sihir, I'm no master."

They bobbed their heads up and down. "Yes, Sihir, absolutely. Anything for you!"

Sihir smiled. "I was wondering if you can accommodate my dietary restrictions."

"Sure thing! Sure thing! What is the problem?" They were eager to help.

"I'm a Muslim, and I need to eat Halal. I don't suppose you can make some halal meats, could you?"

"Oh, absolutely! No worries, we've had this request before!" They smiled and bobbed their heads up and down again. "Anything else? Would the mas-" The one speaking winced. "Please forgive me, Sir. Would Sihir like a cup of tea, maybe a cake?"

"Oh, no, please! Don't go out of your way while I'm here. I'm just here to inquire about halal foods."

"No problem! No problem! Sihir will find Halal meats on the tables from now on!" They bowed and curtsied, and offered him snacks as he began to leave.

He took a few candies that were offered, some Bernie Botts, and chocolate frogs. "Thanks!"

"Not a problem, sir! Not a problem at all!" They beamed at him, and waved goodbye as he left.

He walked back to the Great Hall, and saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting together. He walked over to join them.

"Hello Sihir!" Said Hermione happily. Harry and Ron repeated her.

"Hey there, Gryffindor scum!" He joked. They laughed. "You guys want some Chocolate frogs?" He took some out of his bag. The three took what was offered, along with some Bernie Botts' Beans that Sihir took out for them too.

"Where'd you get these?" Asked Ron, his mouth full of chocolate.

"I was just at the kitchens."

"You were _there_?" Ron was surprised. "How did you get in?"

"Well, I-"

"Don't spill the secret!" Said a voice behind him. Ron's brothers, Fred and George Weasley stood behind them, grinning at Sihir. One of them winked at the Slytherin.

Sihir grinned back. "Alright!"

Ron groaned. "Oh, George, you spoil everything!" The twins laughed, ruffled their brother's hair, clapped Harry on the shoulder, and walked away.

"So, you all are on good terms again?" Sihir asked.

Hermione smiled. "I'm not sure if you heard, but they saved me from the troll."

Sihir was startled. "What? What happened?"

"Well, we noticed that Hermione wasn't at the table, and didn't hear what Quirrell said." Explained Harry. "We went to the girl's bathroom, hoping to find Hermione, but the Troll got there first. It was attacking her, so we tried to lure it away."

"They threw some debris from the bathroom at the troll, and it started to attack them. Harry was almost bludgeoned, but Ron charmed the troll's club to float, and it crashed onto it's head." Hermione smiled. "If it weren't for them, I'd be dead."

"Wow. Troll slaying at night, _and_ Quidditch the next day? You're incredible!"

Harry grinned at Sihir.

"But seriously, Harry! Eat something!" Said Ron, pointing to the toast on the table. Sihir took one.

"I'm not hungry!" Said Harry.

"I wouldn't be worried if I were you, Potter..." Came the dry voice of Severus Snape, dripping with sarcasm. "You bested a troll, what's a simple game of Quidditch to one with your skills?" He smirked, then noticed Sihir. "What are you doing here, with these Gryffindors?"

"Telling them how much we will win, professor." Sihir said. The trio laughed. Professor Snape gave Sihir a dirty look, but walked off without another word. "Well, try not to get injured Harry!" Sihir patted him on the back, and went to join Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Good morning, Sihir." Said Draco.

"Good morning Draco, Gregory, Vincent." He nodded to them all, and sat across from them. "This is looking up to be a good game!"

"Yeah. We'll win for sure! Potter doesn't stand a chance!" Draco was suddenly distracted. "What's that?" Sihir turned around, and noticed a snow white owl with a broomstick flying towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione. It dropped the broom in front of Harry, and continued flying. "What broom has he got? Hey Sihir, you mind going over and seeing?"

Sihir rolled his eyes. He was just over there! "Fine..!" He got up, and walked back to the Gryffindors. "Hey, Harry, what'd you get?"

Ron spoke first. "It's a Nimbus 2000!"

"Nimbus 2000? No way..!"

"Come, look!" Sihir walked closer to the table, and read the letters on the broomstick. _Nimbus 2000_.

"Wow, Harry! That's some broom, there!" He saw the Slytherin team entering the Great Hall, led by Marcus Flint. He walked over to them. "Hey, Marcus, Potter has a Nimbus 2000!"

Marcus glared at him. "What?!" He groaned. "If you're lying..." He held up a fist threateningly.

"No, I saw it. It's a 2000, all right." He turned around, and saw Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain, and the Weasley Twins smirking at them.

"Thanks for the tip-off, Sihir." He brushed past the First-Year, with his team, to the Slytherin table, where they sat, huddled together and plotting. Terrence Higgs, the Seeker, looked more worried than Flint.

Sihir walked back over to the Gryffindors. "Flint seems worried."

"As he should be!" Said Wood, grinning. "You Slytherins are going down!"

Sihir grinned back at him. Harry turned. "You want to hold it, Sihir?"

Sihir held up his hands. "Oh, no, you can't trust me with that, I'm Slytherin, remember? One second with that, and I'll bring to my captain, or snap it in two!" Harry laughed at that. "After the game, maybe." He gave Harry a playful punch to the shoulder, and went back to Draco.

"So? What has he got?"

"You aren't going to believe me."

"Just tell me!"

"Nimbus 2000."

Crabbe spit up his Pumpkin Juice. Goyle choked on a muffin, slightly. Draco was open-mouthed. "Nimbus 2000?!" He all but shouted.

"Yeah." Sihir grabbed a muffin from the table, and bit into it. "The odds have changed a bit!"

Half an hour later, they were all walking to the stadium. Sihir walked there with the Patil twins.

"So, you got sorted into Ravenclaw, eh?" Sihir asked Padma.

She nodded. "It's a little strange not being with Parvarti." She smiled. "My house-mates are nice, though. What about you?" She frowned. "We were expecting you to be sorted into Gryffindor!"

Sihir shrugged. "I don't know!" He ran his fingers through his thick black hair. "It was a surprise for me too!"

"I'm just surprised you aren't calling every muggle-born a..." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "...mudblood."

"Oh, don't even say it!" Said Sihir furiously. "My father taught me never to treat one so horribly!"

They reached the stadium, and went their separate ways. Sihir made it to the Slytherin stands, and stood next to Theodore Nott, with whom he shared a Dormitory.

"Hey Theodore."

"Hey Sihir."

"Go Slytherin, eh?" He uppercut the air, jokingly. Theodore laughed.

"Hey, why do you hang out with those Gryffindors so much? Harry, Ron, Hermione?"

"I don't know... They are nice to me, so I'll be nice to them. They've never given me any cause to hate them."

Nott smiled. "Strange, I've never heard a Slytherin talk like that about Gryffindors!"

Sihir laughed. "Oh, here they come!"

Both teams flew out to the field. Marcus Flint leading the Slytherins, Oliver Wood leading the Gryffindors. Harry Potter was lightning-fast on the new broom. The captains landed, and met at the center with Madame Hooch. They shook hands, looking like they wanted to break each other's fingers. They got back on the brooms, flew up, and Hooch kicked open the chest, sending the balls upward. The game started.

The players were flying at breakneck speed. Gryffindor had possession of the Quaffle, and their chaser was dodging beaters and bludgers left and right. She threw into the middle hoop, and scored. "Ten points to Gryffindor!" Shouted the announcer, a Gryffindor. He was excited about that.

Sihir and the rest of the Slytherins groaned. "Come on Flint! You can do it!" Shouted Sihir. Marcus grabbed the Quaffle, and led his chasers down the field. He took aim and threw the ball, but Oliver Wood caught it, and threw it to one of the Gryffindor chasers.

That chaser flew down the field, but was caught in-between two Slytherins. They forced her to fly into a tower, where she crashed, and fell to the sands.

"Is that allowed?" Asked Sihir.

"Yeah. Don't worry, no-one dies!" Laughed Nott.

Flint once again had the Quaffle, and flew down the field. He threw again towards the hoops, but Wood kicked it away.

Marcus grabbed a Slytherin Beater's club, and whacked an incoming bludger at the Gryffindor Captain. It hit him in the chest, and Wood fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Hey, what's going on with Potter?" Said Zabini, nearby. Sihir looked at Harry. He was swerving around, up and down, seemingly not in control.

"I don't know!" He was flying around, hanging on for dear life. Terrence Higgs, their Seeker, was looking up with amusement. All of a sudden, the jerking of Harry's broom stopped, and he flew away.

Harry spotted something, and flew after it. The Snitch! Higgs saw him, and followed. They were neck in neck, and were flying down toward the ground. Terrence pulled up quickly, but Harry continued. Soon, he was following along the field.

He got on his feet, on the broom, almost surfing the air. He reached out, grabbing, and fell off the broom. He tumbled to the ground. He sat up, and made motions like he was going to vomit. Something fell into his hands, and he grinned widely.

"HARRY CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

The Slytherins all booed, but the other houses were cheering.

"That Potter kid, damn!" Said a 5th year behind Sihir. "How'd he get so good?"

"His father was a Seeker, and a team captain!" Said Sihir.

"Fuck!" Swore the 5th year. The crowds in the stands began to leave.

Sihir was walking next to a Gryffindor first year, the black one from earlier. "Hey, you're Dean, right?"

"Yeah. Sihir? You're from America, right?"

"Yes. That was my first Quidditch match, actually."

"Really? Same here!" Said Dean. "It reminded me of Football, actually."

"Yeah, sort of. Not American football, but European, sure. Are you muggle-born?"

"Would that be a problem?" Dean asked. "A Slytherin can't be associated with muggles, eh?"

"No, not that! It's just that you mentioned Football, is all."

"Oh, well, I'm half-blood, but my dad ran out on my mom. I don't know who he is, where he is."

"That's horrible!" Sihir patted the Gryffindor on the shoulder. "I feel for you, man."

"How about you? Are you half, too?"

"No, Pureblood. My parents are both Arab-American. I was born in America, and we moved here when I was six. My mother died a few years ago, though."

"Oh, sorry man. What did she die of?"

"We don't know, some illness. I was in the room when she died, though. It was very sad." Sihir wiped a tear coming from his left eye.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." They reached the Main Hall.

"Hey, did you want to hang out with me and Seamus tomorrow? We were going to listen to music on the record player in the Gryffindor Common Room."

"Is that allowed? I'm a Slytherin, remember?"

"I don't see why not! Just meet Seamus and I in the great hall for breakfast tomorrow."

"I have some muggle records, too. Can I bring them along?"

"Sure, sounds good! What've you got?"

"Some American jazz. John Coltrane, Elvin Jones, Chick Corea."

"I haven't heard of them. Bring them along, it sounds interesting." Dean smiled. "See you later, man!" He went up the stairs. Sihir walked down the stairs leading to the Slytherin dormitory.

"Python." The wall opened, and Sihir stepped through. The Team wasn't there yet, and the mood was gloomy. Not many people there, as most of them were still outside, enjoying the sun. Sihir walked to his dorm, and looked through his bag. It was enchanted to hold more, and he retrieved a box of records.

There was John Coltrane's _Giant Steps_, and _My Favorite Things_, Chick Corea's _Now He Sings, Now He Sobs_. Oh, Art Blakey's _Moanin'._ Good records. He would bring one of those for Dean and Seamus.

"What are you doing?" Sihir turned around. Blaise Zabini appeared behind him.

"Oh, hey Blaise. I'm looking through some of my records."

"You have records? Let me see." He walked over. He looked at the one Sihir had out. "Who is Chick Corea?"

"He's an american pianist. This is an album from 1968."

"Is this muggle music?"

"Yeah."

Blaise frowned. "Why do you have it?"

"They are pretty good! Where do you think the Weird Sisters got their influences from, if not that muggle Rock?"

Zabini scratched his chin. "I suppose that's true..."

"And this is where those muggle groups got their influence!"

"You want to play it outside?"

"Yeah, sure. If you would like to hear it."

"Yeah, sure." They walked out to the Common Room with Chick Corea's album. Sihir handed it to Blaise, and he set it on the player.

"Steps-What Was" started playing, with a lengthy piano intro. The two sat in armchairs, and listened.

Blaise nodded appreciatively. "This isn't bad, actually. What's this one called?"

"Steps." The melody started playing, with the drums and bass player joining in. "I love that part!"

Blaise grinned. Another Slytherin walked over. "Hey, what're you playing?"

"Some Chick Corea."

"Who's he?"

"A piano player from America."

"Wizard?"

"I don't know, maybe!" Sihir laughed mockingly.

The other Slytherin glared at him, and walked away.

A few minutes in, the drum solo started. "Oh, a drum solo! You don't hear many of these in Wizard music, you know." Said Blaise.

"Yeah, I know. It's a real drag."

"Who's the drummer on this?" Blaise took the cover and read the back. "Roy Haynes?"

"He's incredible. He's been playing since the 40's, maybe before."

"Wow." Blaise was loving this.

"Do you know if there is musical education here?"

"Yes, Music class, Muggle music, choir. All under Flitwick." Blaise grimaced. "It's for Third years, though. Electives."

"Oh, well, that sucks."

"I never thought I would like this muggle music. Thanks, Sihir."

"No problem." Sihir smiled at Blaise.

Blaise smiled back. "Why were you sorted into Slytherin, anyway? You are unlike any I have ever met."

Sihir laughed. "I have absolutely no idea. Why do all of you tolerate me, seeing as I consort with Gryffindors and Muggle-borns?"

Blaise smiled. "I think we see you as a lovable oddity, you know? Every House has a few, every generation or so. Look at those Gryffindors, for example. Theirs is Neville, obviously." He laughed, and Sihir snorted in disdain. "You are like the 'class clown,' you know?"

"I see that." Sihir smiled. "I'll take it."

The drum solo ended, leading into the next song on the track, "What Was."

"Oh, is this the same song?"

"Sort of. The two songs, Steps and What Was, were put on the same track."

"Interesting. Well, I think I've had enough. I'm going outside, to enjoy the sun." Blaise stood. "I enjoyed this, Sihir."

Sihir grinned. "We should do it again, sometime."

"See you." Blaise left the common room.

Sihir stopped the record, and put it back into the sleeve. He'd listen to it later.


End file.
